The Unforgettable File
by Xin0Lan
Summary: Sherlock slaved away in his Mind Palace trying to erase everything that was related to the horrific event, but failed. It was engrained not just in his Mind Palace, but in his mind and heart. So every night he is forced to relive the horror of hearing the screams. This is how it starts... NO Slash, Vulgarity, or Hinted Subtext!
1. But That's My World!

**Chapter 1**

* * *

So there he stood.

Wide-eyed with his head protruding out of his shoulders like a turtle and his mouth hanging open.

Frozen.

Unmoveable.

Complete and utter shock.

It was as if Hades himself came up and blew his breath of death to all that was dear to him.

It was as if the whole world had vanished in that massive inferno.

Maybe it was an exaggeration? Maybe it wasn't, but whatever the case would seem- HIS whole world had vanished in that blasted inferno.

All was lost. He didn't care that everything in his life was gone in an instant. Literally went up in smoke and flames. He didn't care about any possessions, it all seems useless to the irreplaceable precious treasure he lost. His one and only. She was irreplaceable. No amount of any earthly monetary possessions could even amount to a fraction of her cherished value.

Now she was gone.

Forever.

Just like that.

Her life snuffed out by the vicious fire. That one act had shattered more than just the building they lived in.

Sherlock. John. Mary. Molly. Mrs. Hudson. Her husband. Her siblings.

All their lives changed in that instant when the first responders came out carrying a wrapped up blanket charred black. It was not even ten in the morning when the call went out to the emergency dispatchers.

* * *

It has been nearly seven years now, but the horrors of that fiery torment and terror still plagues his sleep. Nothing would ever soothe the guilt in his heart no matter how many words his friends and family comforted him with. It was all empty comfort though with the best intentions.

Survivor's guilt. A pain unlike any other.

The heinous thoughts: "Why didn't I die too? I shouldn't be here. They should have lived. Why did it have to be them? If only I had done more, they might still be in my arms and not six feet under."

John and Sherlock were besides themselves with grief. Their wives couldn't be consoled no matter what their husbands said or did. The term "in-law" didn't matter in the slightest way, the ache was equal. Their daughter (or daughter-in-law) wasn't there anymore.

Daughter, sister, wife, daughter-in-law, but never a mother. She was but nearly twenty-seven. Still a girl in the eyes of her mum and father.

Everyone wanted to wipe the whole memory away. Sherlock slaved away in his Mind Palace trying to erase everything that was related to the dastardly event, but failed. It was engrained not just in his Mind Palace, but in his mind and heart. So every night he is forced to relive the horror, and this is how it starts.

* * *

**TBC **

**This account is both faithful and true for it is in the honour and memory of the one who passed on three days ago. The survivor's guilt of her two family members who walked away with no more than ashes caked on their bare feet, I can only imagine, such a monstrosity it is. **

_...If only it was just house, we would have all joked and laughed. Material possession are easily replaced. The house was too big for just two, and you spoke of down-sizing... Just not in this way..._

"You Have Always Counted" has been updated. "Watching Over Each Other" has also been updated ASAP.

You decide who was Heather belonged to and which family she married into. Her full name would have had include both surnames: Heather Holmes and Watson. I couldn't bear to write this and not have all accounted for in the end.


	2. Before it is Too Late

**Chapter 2**

* * *

_And this is how it started..._

* * *

_Seven years ago on that dastardly, wretched, horrid, repulsive, hateful, spiteful, painful, terribly sad, and dreadfully earth-shattering day: the home of the Holmes-Watson residence went up in flames taking everything near and dear to them. John had remembered every single moment of it. He tried to forget it, it just didn't happen..._

"Sherlock! Where are you? Heather? Are you upstairs? Fire! Fire! Water! Get me water!" John bellowed as he raced through the rooms the moment he smelt smoke. It pricked his nose with a sharp pain as he hastily fetched a pail ran to the bath turning it on full strength. Heather nearly crashed into John as she rounded the corner with her own pail full of water. She had been in her room and heard his urgent warnings. The smell of the smoke was creeping rapidly through the vents.

"Sherlock! Where is Sherlock?" she asked frantically shoving him the additional pail and ran off calling over her shoulder, "Never mind. Don't worry! I'll find him. He can't do this with the smoke increasing. I'll come back and help you in a moment!"

"Be careful! Just get him and yourself outside to call 999! I think he's downstairs," John answered in a rush and ran up the flight of steps.

So the two ran off in their separate directions with panic quickly seeping through their stoic persona.

* * *

Heather found Sherlock fumbling around like a caged animal throughout the rooms of his flat. He was confused and moaning frantically unintelligible words. The smoke was getting to his mind, it was dangerous to stay in the flat for too much longer.

"Sherlock! It's me. Heather!" She grabbed his wrists and started pulling him toward the hallway, "We need to go get you out now! Upstairs is on fire. John is working on it."

He obeyed immediately and followed her out, but headed for the flight up instead of down. "Heather! Get out! Go to across the street and call for the firefighters. We aren't leaving John up there alone." He growled ad pushed her toward the stairs as she tried to follow him. "Go! I'll be right behind you when he comes down. Go! Now!"

Heather stood there frozen for a moment before her brain finally processed all of Sherlock's shock-induced words of panic.

* * *

"John! Where are you? John!" Sherlock bellowed over and over at the top of his lungs vying to be heard over the roar of the crackling fire. His feet carried him as fast as they would allows through the cramped hallway. Recovering no answer, the worried man rushed on to the next room, but miscounted his steps and hit the wall hard in his haste. Shaking his head quickly to ignore the pain, Sherlock at last heard John's muffle strains as he tried in vain to smother the fire. He walked cautiously into the room, trying to filter out the direction of the fire's roar and John's voice.

"John! Come here! Now! Heather is calling 999. We have to go, the fire is too much to handle!"

Sherlock's voice was tight and frantic, it was a sound John had never heard before. It scared him. He cried out in disbelief as he dragged Sherlock away from the danger, "What are you doing here? How did you get up here? Heather is suppose to be with you OUTSIDE!"

"She is, I pushed her toward the stairs whilst I came to get you. I'm not leaving you inside a burning building." He ran his hands along the groves of the wall noting the intensity of heat building, but John suddenly pulled him close just as a section of the ceiling caved in sending a massive puff of smoke, dust and ash whirling from behind which sent them into a terrible coughing fit.

At that, Heather cut in from out of nowhere in front of them standing on top step of the second to last flight of stairs before reaching the main door, "Wrong, I'm here, and I'm not leaving either of you here. Now Go!"

The three quickly avoided the rubble and raced down the stairs as parts of the walls and floors started to give way with an ear-splitting shatter of material.

* * *

**A-N: As this is a mirror of what really did happen, here are the facts according to the family and Fire Marshall: the fire started some place within the garage and jumped to the roof of the house. The actual cause remains unknown. The fire quickly engulfed room after room with smoke travelling through the vents first, then flames following.**

**The most heart-wrenching part was finding out that the staircase was one of the later places to be severely affected, so she had the opportunity to flee. She was upstairs whilst her husband and father-in-law were both downstairs, however; the men are unable to climb stairs.**

**/-/**

**You decide who Heather belonged to and which family she married into. Her full name would have had include both surnames: Heather Holmes and Watson. I couldn't bear to write this and not have all accounted for in the end.**

**-/-**

**"Humpty Dumpty" has been updated. **

**I would also like to point out this writing style is a bit different from the other stories I have written, in case you feel something odd about reading this one.**


End file.
